Not like other people
by casterheart
Summary: A bored Sherlock visits a friend and ends up investigating her unexpected disappearance.
1. Chapter One: Bored

Sherlock Holmes was unbearable. He always was. But ever since he solved the closed room murder weeks ago ( _quelle surprise_ , it was the butler!), he didn't leave the flat and was bored out of his mind, driving John Watson and Mrs Hudson nearly to the borders of madness.

Even Detective Inspector Lestrade, who dropped by that morning to bring Sherlock an old case, couldn't put up with him for long. Sherlock became even more insufferable after. It took him not even 10 seconds to solve the case. John stopped the time.

„How do you know it was the husband?", Lestrade asked.

"The shoes." Sherlock answered like it was the most obvious thing, 'cause for him it was. But when Lestrade and John kept staring he elaborated, making them wish he never did. So the case was solved and Lestrade left grumbling.

The next hours involved Sherlock dramatically sighing until John suggested visiting their friend Alice Greene who was working with Molly Hooper at Barts. Faced with the prospect of going out and doing something potentially more exciting, Sherlock took two minutes to get ready. Pulling on his famous coat and turning his coat collar up ' _to look cool_ ' as John used to call it, and eagerly waiting to leave.

Bidding farewell to Mrs Hudson and nearly skipping down the stairs, Sherlock hailed down a cab, pushing John inside and arriving at Barts in record time. Meeting Molly outside the morgue John stayed for small talk, while Sherlock burst right in ready to bombard his friend Alice with questions, only to discover the room empty.

As always the room was clean showing no traces of live (no pun intended) or even being used in the first place. But since that was no indication for Alice not being at work -she could be in the lab or the cafeteria- Sherlock decided to 'wait' for her, which involved pacing around and humming disgruntledly every now and then.

When John entered with Molly and saw his friend scowling, he wasn't surprised. He knew that after weeks of boredom only few things could lift the detective's spirits. Getting distracted by Alice's stories about her adventures abroad or old cases being one of them. But as their friend wasn't there, and Sherlock sighing for the 10th time in 2 minutes, John couldn't bear it any longer. "Is something wrong?"

Huffing Sherlock stopped pacing and turned to his partner. "Can't you see it?"

"Alice is not here.", John deadpanned.

"Yes, and?"

"And what?"

"Come on, John. Look around." Sherlock made a sweeping gesture to enclose the whole room. "Alice's keeping things tidy and well organised. So, how come that scalpel's laying on the desk and not in the drawer?"

"Maybe she forgot to put it away?" John was used to bored Sherlock _come up_ with cases where none were, but he wasn't willing to let his friend drag him into one.

"Alice forgetting? You sure?" Sherlock shot him a sceptical look. "You know, how she's always wearing gloves and wiping out all traces of her being here to the point it nearly borders on mental disorder. She'd never leave anything _not_ in the intended place. Molly!" He turned to Molly who was clearly daydreaming by the door, startling her. "Did you see Dr. Greene today?"

"No, I didn't see her since yesterday. When I went home she was still working, saying she wanted to finish her autopsy report on that extended suicide."

"What extended suicide? Lestrade didn't tell us anything about an extended suicide."

* * *

"Weird…" Sherlock mumbled. He's been searching the room for anything that could explain his friend's disappearance for the last few minutes, but came up empty-handed. Whoever had their friend, did a good job at wiping out all traces.

"What's weird?"

"The autopsy report and the bodies are missing."

John turned to his friend. "Maybe Alice finished the autopsy and transferred the bodies to the funeral home?"

"Not without leaving the report. You know, how thoroughly she's working." Turning back to Molly Sherlock fixed his scrutinising gaze on her, while pulling out his mobile. "Is anything else missing?"

"Well, her voice recorder's missing, but she could have taken it home. _Although she doesn't need to, because she's saving the audio in a cloud._ ", she mumbled the last part in thought. Turning to John and trying to escape Sherlock's stare she elaborated. "That way Alice can type down her reports at home, if she was working overtime."

"It would be good to read her report on that extended suicide -or to listen to the audio-, but we'd need access to her cloud for that." Sherlock started to mumble typing away on his mobile, not caring for the people around him. "Maybe I could find out her login data if I-"

"I have her username and password, would that help?" Sherlock froze. Slowly looking up from his mobile he looked at Molly as though he was seeing her for the first time. Raising his eyebrows with a 'Why didn't you say so earlier'-look he turned back to the display of his mobile with a nod.

While Molly left the room to get Alice's login data, John approached Sherlock with a worried expression. "So, you think something happened to her?"

"It's Thursday and Alice is not at work. Not only didn't anyone see her today, but she also didn't call." Resuming to type on his mobile he pushed it in John's face. "She's also not texting back. What are you concluding from that?"

John started to worry. If Alice, who was always calling or texting right back, didn't answer her phone, then something really bad must have happened. Someone must have kidnapped their friend…


	2. Chapter Two: Where am I?

Her head throbbing was the first thing Alice felt, when she came to. She felt like someone was hammering red-hot nails into her head - or some small animal had its claws in her temples, stabbing and scratching at her brain. Opening her eyes felt even worse, to the point of tears welling up in her eyes and her being unable to blink them away. So she decided to keep her eyes closed, since everything was dark anyway.

As she tried to lift one of her hands to at least wipe her tears away, she realised she couldn't move her arms. For a short moment Alice panicked fearing the worst, already picturing herself paralysed after some kind of freak accident. But concentrating on her body she realised that she was sitting upright in a chair, her arms and legs bound. After a short 'screening' she was relieved to detect no significant injuries aside from her head injury, which explained her dizziness and nausea.

Alice tried to remember what happened, but kept drawing a blank. And the more she tried the more she felt like puking. So she concentrated on her other senses. First she felt the cold humid air and water droplets on her skin. Smelling the air she grimaced since it smelled foul -like stagnant water- and hearing water dripping she came to the conclusion that she was somewhere underground. She remembered being in the canalisation once -though she couldn't remember why- and the air smelling the same way.

Just then she realised she was thirsty. It must have been some time, since she drank last, more than 8 hours at least. Opening her mouth to moisten her dry lips, she could clearly feel them crack making her wince.

Taking a deep breath Alice tried to collect her thoughts. She must have been abducted, and judging by her headache and the weird sticky feeling on her head, they got her pretty bad. Moving her shoulders and hands she felt herself wearing her lab coat, the cotton fabric gently rubbing over her wrists. So she must have been taken from her workplace. _Come on, Alice. What else?_

Carefully lifting her head she tried to open her eyes this time succeeding, though her vision was still blurred. Her surroundings were dark, just like she remembered the tunnels under the city. The little grey light coming from under some kind of door was enough to see the small room she was in. Though calling it room would probably 'overdo' it, since it wasn't even bigger than a broom closet - just enough room for two people standing side by side, the only object being the chair she was sitting on at the wall across the door. If her legs hadn't been tied, she could have even reached the door.

She remembered once seeing a map of the tunnels of the London Underground. The realisation of her low chances to get found in the vast tunnel network under London hit her like a brick wall. Suddenly the cold air felt thick, making her already dry throat tying up. Her heart started to race, setting her whole body on fire, but sending a cold shiver down her back. The darkness surrounding her was infiltrating and slowing down her thoughts, the overall feeling of helplessness spiralling out of control and threatening to drown her.

Through the constant pulsating pain in her head and her burning lungs Alice gripped the chair she was sitting on, her knuckles turning ghostly white. Her whole system was closing down on her, her last thought of a familiar voice.

" _You are not like other people."_

Snapping her eyes open Alice mentally grabbed that thought, willing herself to take deeper breaths. Wading through her foggy thoughts she tried to remember the face behind the voice.

" _You are not like other people." Sherlock's voice echoed over to her._

 _It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and Sherlock invited_ _Alice_ _over for some tea and biscuits. Ever since she befriended the consulting detective she spent her Sunday afternoons with him, talking about old cases. Usually John was joining them entertaining her with anecdotes about his adventures with Sherlock, but this time he was spending the day with his current girlfriend. So the detective and the forensic doctor were alone._

" _Is that supposed to be a compliment? 'Cause I'm not sure how to take that."_

 _Alice_ _was sitting in John's armchair a teacup in her hands. She just finished her story about how her old assistant turned the morgue upside-down in search for his mobile, only to realise he left it in the body when the device started to ring. How he managed to do that was beyond her comprehension. And how she made him apologise to the dead for having to open them up a second time. He never lived it down once their colleagues found out - and was not allowed to take any personal belongings in the room._

" _It is." Stepping away from the window Sherlock took a seat opposite of her. "You know I'm bad at this whole-" He motioned with his fingers around. "...human interaction and communication- thing."_

" _No shit, Sherlock." Without looking up_ _Alice_ _rolled her eyes at the detective, his chuckling echoing through the room._

Slowly her breathing evened out at the fond memory. The consulting detective was undoubtedly the most brilliant man she ever met, but his half-hearted attempts to act 'normal' were -for the lack of a better word- cringe-worthy. At least he always made her laugh - even if it was at his expense.

Trying to relax her aching muscles Alice concentrated on the sound of the water droplets still dripping somewhere, uninterrupted from her previous panic attack, the soft and constant dripping nearly lulling her to sleep.

That was until she heard the faint scraping of shoes over the floor slowly getting closer, walking at a leisurely pace towards the door, the heavy footsteps echoing through the dark tunnels. Alice anxiously snapped up her eyes staring at the door. For a brief moment she considered screaming for help, but remembering she had been abducted, she realised it must be her kidnapper returning. So she remained quiet staring straight at the gap under the door, listening to the ominous approaching steps.

Moments before the steps stopped in front of the door the room was covered in complete darkness. And then she heard someone fidgeting with -what she assumed were- keys, before the door was roughly ripped open, the light instantly blinding her. Blinking back the tears she looked up.

"I like that view." The voice sent a shiver down her back - and not the good kind.

Squinting up at him all she saw were dark sunken eyes under a mop of dirty blond hair. He looked ill -like after a long sickness- his eyes eerily familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. And then it hit her like a second brick wall that day. He was familiar, because she'd been working with him for years.

" _Trent_.", she gasped.

His evil grin told her she was right. "Hello, Alice."


	3. Chapter Three: A coincidence?

"I spoke to Samuels from the funeral home." Molly rushed back in, her ponytail flying everywhere. "He came in this morning to signed transfer papers, and since everything looked all right he took the Porters with him. They were cremated two hours ago-"

"The login data, Molly." Sherlock was getting more impatient by the second. For all they knew Alice was kidnapped hours ago and with every passing minute the chances of finding her alive diminished.

Reaching over and taking the card from Molly's hands Sherlock sped over to Alice's computer. Typing in her username and password he opened her first voice recording from the night before. Turning up the volume of the speakers he bent forward. Slowly the room was filled with the sound of her voice.

" _Dr. Greene, performing an autopsy on Mr. Daniel Porter. According to the first investigator at the scene, Mr. Porter and his wife Sarah were found shot to death at their flat in Chiswick after both of them didn't show up at work on Tuesday. Lestrade's_ forensic-", her voice turned mocking. " _Anderson states it was an 'extended suicide'… That idiot wouldn't even know it if it jumped in his face._ " Sherlock snorted in agreement. " _Just because both were found shot and the weapon of crime's in his hand doesn't mean it was the husband._ "

Alice was probably the only other person that flat out hated the forensic scientist just as much as Sherlock, which was only one of the many reasons they got along so well.

Deeply sighing, Alice went on. " _Tell me Daniel, is that idiot right? Did you really kill your wife? I'm going to find out what really happened and rub it in that idiot's face-_ "

* * *

It's been 20 minutes since Sherlock started the record. Molly's been taking notes just in case, but so far there was nothing that could help them find their friend. Sherlock though was hanging on every word Alice said - storing away every piece of information.

John was starting to worry. He had faith that Sherlock would find Alice, but the thoughts of 'what if' were starting to get to him. He filled Lestrade in on Alice's disappearance right away to which the DI rushed to the funeral home to take the testimony of Samuels and to check the transfer papers, saying he would come by right after. But so far nothing-

" _...hm, that's weird…_ " They heard background noise as Alice was moving the voice recorder over the metal table. " _...it looks like you were left-handed, huh, Daniel? So why would you use your right hand to kill your wife but your left to kill yourself?_ "

That was a good question. Sherlock tried to remember ever hearing about a similar case, but came up blank. This case was getting better and better. If his friend's life wasn't at stake, he'd even enjoy it. _Who was he kidding? He was enjoying it._

" _What's this? There's blood behind his left earlobe. And also on the left side of his neck, like dripping at a 90 degree angle - which is physically impossible._ " Alice hummed lost in thought. " _Call it a hunch, but I suspect it's from_ his wife _._ "

Sherlock frowned. He trusted her observation, and without a body it was all they had. _But if the 'perpetrator' really had blood from his 'victim' drop at a 90 degree angle on his neck- which was not possible if she died first-_ His thoughts raced with the speed of light.

"Was there a lab report on the blood?", he asked Molly, hands folded under his chin.

"No-" Molly shook her head in defeat. She felt guilty about not staying with Alice - if she had stayed, the pathologist wouldn't have been kidnapped. Alice was always willing to lend a hand or a sympathetic ear and always had time for Molly - to which she was very grateful. And not being able to help find her-

"Stop overthinking, Molly. It's not your fault and would have happened even if you had been here." Sherlock interrupted her troubled thoughts.

Meanwhile, Alice was finishing up the autopsy until-.

" _The hell-_ " Sherlock snapped his eyes up.

" _Is this a puncture wound?_ " They heard some shuffling and a zipper hissing, then a confused ' _what the-_ ' before the steps came closer again. " _BOTH- both Porters have puncture marks from a syringe in their necks so small I would have missed if not for Sherlock's 'lectures'. That guy talked my ear off last time I had a junkie on the table._ " She mumbled the last part.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He only stated facts he was sure she didn't know while she was hanging on every word coming from his mouth, writing down every piece of new information. She always lit up like a Christmas tree when he told her new interesting facts, which in turn made him smile.

Meanwhile, Alice's voice turned sugar-sweet. " _Thank you, Sherlock. I've been working in New York for 5 years, but I never knew what 'puncture marks' look like. You're_ so _smart_."

Lowering her voice a few octaves she cleared her throat sounding more like a man now. " _You're welcome, Alice. Most people are idiots, but you're less stupid._ "

John snorted. She was getting better at impersonifying Sherlock, which she did when she was annoyed or distressed.

" _Dear God, what's it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring._ " The last word drowned in her laughter.

Once her laughter died down she sighed, tapping her fingernails across the metal table. " _Thinking about it- the whole thing rings some bells… Maybe I should ask Mac, why this all seems so familiar-_ "

 _Wait, what did she say about…_ Sherlock was fast-forwarding all his conversations with Alice since she returned to London, until he remembered the one he was searching for. Checking her emails he jumped up in euphoria. "Yes!"

"Did you find anything?" John eyed his friend hopefully.

"Yes. The name 'Mac' was ringing some bells. So I checked my mind palace and remembered Alice talking about some Mac fella she was working with in New York. Knowing Alice, she wouldn't wait and get in contact with him right away… So I checked her emails and found this report on an extended suicide from 2 years ago. A short scan confirmed my suspicion." He stated matter of factly. Taking a deep breath- more for effect- he grinned. "It's the same case… down to the blood on his neck. The only difference: the puncture marks in their necks."

"Maybe it's a coincidence?"

"A coincidence where some guy kills his wife getting her blood drop on his neck at a 90 degree angle, and then shoots himself? _The universe is rarely so lazy._ "


	4. Chapter Four: See what you made me do?

"Remember the good old times? Working side by side… It was a give and take between us- me giving and you taking most of the time, but then again I thought: _She's a girl and we're friends-_ "

"We were never friends." Alice interrupted Trent, her insecurity about the kidnapping and the surprise at the culprit had vanished and made way for irritation.

Also, because of the head injury, her mind could not really keep up with the stream of words coming from his mouth. And his wild gesturing and pacing wasn't helping either- He always started to gesture or pace when he had a particularly _exciting story_ to tell. However, his gestures became more and more wild the further the story progressed, most times even distracting the listeners from his speech. Which in turn let him believe they couldn't keep up with his _intelligence_ , boosting his ego even more.

How he had been a lab technician for so long, since he was always waving around so wildly- without smashing anything- was a mystery to Alice. Or why he became a lab technician instead of a crime scene investigator in the first place, since he always wanted to be where the _action_ was.

He wasn't a patient man either. Instead of waiting for his lab computer or the mass spectrometer to give a result, he roamed the lab and checked on his colleagues or simply took over their work. If he'd been let, he would have solved all cases on his own. But his 'incompetent boss' left him _on the bench_ instead. Trent though was convinced that he was the only one who could _save the world_. And _Alice_ was the only one who could keep up with him. The only one worthy of him...

"You are right, we were far more… We were _partners_." He resumed his pacing- as far as it was possible in the small room. "But then you had to go and stab me in the back. D'you know how that felt?"

"Is this a rhetorical question?" Alice asked, sighing deeply.

She wasn't sure where this was coming from. Sure, they both had been working at the New York City crime lab- him in the lab, her in the morgue- often on the same cases. But never _together_. Yes, they've been _colleagues_ of some sorts, but not _friends_ or _partners_. They were just _friendly_ \- sometimes chatting in the break room or comparing their results, or even discussing their assumptions about the suspects. On quiet nights, they even talked about 'the perfect murder'- _hypothetically of course_. Talking to him was interesting at first- he was smart and funny- until he started to think he was always right. It became very tiring to hear him boasting about himself and run down everybody else.

Snickering Trent put his hands on the armrests of her chair, leaning in. "You know, I missed that." At her sceptical look he tilted his head and looked her in the eyes, gesturing between them. "This. _US_. We were a great team." Alice rolled her eyes at him, which he didn't see since he turned his back to her stepping away, before turning back and pointing at her in excitement. " _And we could be again._ "

"You mean like... _this_?" She stressed wiggling her bound arms, making him lean his back on the door. "Or when you slammed my head on the metal table- thanks btw." _Speaking of metal table…_ Raising her eyes at him and blinking as realisation set in, her mind was finally calm enough to put the pieces together. "It was _you_ -"

"What?", he asked feigning confusion, but then grinned like a Cheshire cat. He _definitely_ knew what she meant, but was more than eager to hear it from her- to hear how she figured out his ingenious plan and finally acknowledged him as the genius that he was.

 _She didn't._ "You killed them- You drugged and killed Daniel and Sarah Porter, making it look like an extended suicide- Sloppy execution, btw. _Letting the wife's blood drop on him_ after _he died? Really?_ "

" _That_ was intentional.", he waved off. Straightening up he leaned towards her with a grin. "Oh, I knew you would figure it out. Our last joint case- right before you _dumped_ me-"

"You make it sound like we were- _something_.", she interrupted him. He shook his head as if trying to shake off her words. "We were just colleagues, until you contaminated evidence on that case-"

"I've been _framed_ of contaminating evidence. And _you_ didn't help me." He snapped back, his voice shaking in anger. Taking deep breaths to cool down, he continued more calm. "But I'm not angry or anything. I just want my friend back."

"I could never be friends with a psychopath."

"That's rich coming from you. You're friends with that _Sherlock_ guy.", he replied, taking a few steps away from her.

"He's not a psychopath, he's a highly functioning sociopath. _Do your research_." Alice snapped at him remembering the consulting detective saying those same words.

Trent shot around- his eyes blazing with rage- his hand colliding with her cheek. Alice's head jerked aside, the sudden motion and the stinging sensation from the slap making her vision go black for a moment. She winced, blinking fast to get her vision back and willing away the tears. She'd never give him the satisfaction to see her cry. Slowly a throbbing pain began to spread all through the left side of her face.

She remembered Trent as arrogant and defiant, but never violent- usually too absorbed in his own world. So the slap came as a surprise. And considering his _mood swings_ \- calling her friend and partner one moment and slapping her the next- and how he already killed two people only to get her- Alice shuddered as in the seconds that followed, the images of her dying rushed through her head. _Now_ she was starting to get afraid of him.

As her eyes were able to focus again she saw Trent leaning on a wall slamming his fist against it multiple times, each blow making her flinch. His blood was slowly dripping down the wall, making the grey walls look even more dirty.

Taking deep breaths and trying to calm down he turned around, crouching down in front of her. Wiping his hair from face with his bloody hand and leaving a crimson wipe mark behind, he narrowed his piercing eyes at her.

"See what you made me do?", his voice a menacing whisper. Grabbing her face with his bloodied hand and smiling sadistically, he looked at her in anticipation. Alice tried to turn away in disgust, but he held her with an iron grip. "Originally, I wanted to forgive you. But since you don't feel sorry for betraying me, I _have_ to make you feel my pain."


	5. Chapter Five: Race against Time

Sherlock's been motionless for nearly an hour now.

Setting out the extended suicide from New York to John and Molly, which only looked like an extended suicide- a guy killed the husband of his ex girlfriend, then the ex girlfriend, and made it look like an extended suicide- he researched the whereabouts of a former colleague of Alice. Sherlock's theory was that the lab technician working on that case kidnapped the _pathologist_ -

Apparently _he_ contaminated evidence and blamed everyone else- saying they were jealous and were trying to get rid of him. The case was taken as an occasion to open disciplinary proceedings- Alice being one of the many eyewitnesses summoned to testify _against_ him. And therefore he blamed _her_ for losing his job.

All this wasn't in the investigation file of course, just an afternote. But when Sherlock contacted Detective Mac Taylor, the chief investigator on the case, explaining the facts and his theory, it gave him immediate access to the suspect's file, confirming his suspicion. Promising to keep the NY lab up to date and to call any time if he needed any further assistance, he started to research the lab technician's whereabouts. But not finding any valuable traces, Sherlock retired to his mind palace, not even reacting when Molly went back to work, nor when John called Lestrade for an update informing him of Sherlock's theory.

John, on the other hand, was restless. Reading over the case he still couldn't understand why a former colleague of Alice would do something like this to her. Sure that guy contaminated evidence and the murderer almost got away, which cost him his job. But it wasn't Alice's fault. And killing the Porters to get Alice? Why would he do that? It just didn't make any sense to John.

His head shot up as he heard Sherlock stand up, frowning he took a look at his watch. Usually the consulting detective spends hours in his mind palace when there are no traces. However, turning to the door, John recognised fast approaching footsteps- DI Lestrade finally came with news, Anderson following him in with his lab case.

"You were right, Sherlock. 'Trent Hargrove' _is_ here. He came to London for an interview in a private lab two months ago, but never showed. He's staying with an older couple a few blocks away."

Reaching over John took the investigation file on the 'Porter suicide' from the DI's hands and walked back to the computer to compare the cases. He felt an icy chill running down his spine over how similar the cases were.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was pestering the poor DI with questions. "Do you know where he is right now?"

"According to his neighbours he came home early in the morning and left two hours ago, though they were not sure where to. I told my colleagues to keep their eyes open-"

"Did you search his flat?", Sherlock's patience was finally running out.

"Sherlock. _I believe you_ that Hargrove kidnapped Dr. Greene, but we have no proof and we can't search his flat without justified suspicion." Shooting Sherlock a look, Lestrade pointed a warning finger in his face. "Sherlock, you're not breaking in."

"Why does everyone assume the worst of me."

"It saves time." Anderson piped in. The forensic scientist was starting to search the whole room for a lead.

Shooting around only now acknowledging the other man, Sherlock turned to Lestrade giving the forensic a sidelong glance. "Remind me. Why is _he_ here again?"

Deeply sighing Lestrade silently counted to ten. He was tired of constantly having to explain the most common things to the consulting detective. And after having to encounter him a second time this day, Lestrade could feel a headache already looming ahead. "Because Dr. Greene was kidnapped and you have to call _us_ if something like that happens."

" _Yes_ , but _he's_ on the _forensics_ team. How could _he_ help in finding _Alice_?"

"By searching this room, perhaps?", Anderson interrupted again.

" _Perhaps_? See? He's not even sure what to do himself." Turning to the forensic Sherlock didn't even try to hide his aversion towards him. "I've searched every corner of this room and if _I_ haven't found anything, _you_ won't find anything either."

"Why don't you just relax and let _us_ for once search for your girlfriend-"

" _Girlfriend_?" Sherlock snapped.

"Sherlock, no-" John started, almost physically feeling his friend losing control.

"This _girlfriend_ is a highly qualified pathologist and highly respected colleague of yours- whereas it almost hurts me physically to call _you_ her colleague. _You're way below her level- you're not even on the same continent as her-_ And right now you're just in the way-" Turning to John and seeing him frown Sherlock stopped in his tracks. "What? Not good?"

"No, you're right.", John answered distractedly, still too absorbed in the investigation file.

"Sherlock, he's doing his job-" Lestrade tried to intervene, but Sherlock would not hear it.

"No, he's preventing _me_ from doing _my job_." Before he could say anything else, John reached for his arm and held him back.

"I'm sorry, but Sherlock needs some fresh air. We're going to step out for some time and _then_ we're going to figure out how to find Alice, _ok_? OK." John didn't even wait for Lestrade's answer, finally coming to a decision himself.

Sherlock let himself be dragged out without protest only stopping once they were outside. Turning to John he pulled his arm out of his friend's grip. "What's wrong with you? I'm not going back in there. Lestrade and his forensics can't help and- Wait a moment. Why are you smiling? _What did I miss?_ "

"For such a brilliant detective you can be really _dense_ sometimes. I never said we would go back. All I said was that 'we are going to step out for some time and _then_ figure out how to find Alice.", John said with a meaningful look.

Sherlock blinked, processing the implication. "I think I'm a bad influence on you.", he said thoughtfully, before shrugging. "Why stop now?"


	6. Chapter Six: Forget the past

"Did you miss me?"

Alice raised her eyes blinking, too tired to lift her head. She thanked whatever deity watching her for numbing her broken hand, though it could also be shock.

" _You left?!_ ", she rasped sarcastically. Alice had fallen into a restless- but much needed- sleep when Trent left, trying to save her energy in order to hold out longer. But now that he was back and annoying as ever, she didn't have the strength to suppress her sarcasm any more. "I wish there was a mute button I could use on you."

"Harsh." Trent gasped in mock-offence putting a hand to his heart. "And here I wanted to apologise and make you a peace offering." He pulled out a water bottle giving it a slight shake.

Alice gulped, she was dying of thirst. At this point she'd even drink wastewater, but fresh water was definitely the better option, even if it was coming from _him_.

Unscrewing the bottle he held it to her lips, smiling as she took greedy gulps. "Would you believe me if I said it hurt me more than it hurt you?"

The water tasted divine, but not good enough for her to forget that he was _the enemy_. He'd have to do more than bringing her water to make her side with him. Coming up for air- the bottle empty- Alice rolled her eyes at him. "I doubt that-"

" _But it did_. I'm really sorry I had to do that, but you hurt my feelings.", he tried to justify his actions. "Do I regret it? _Yes_. Would I do it again? _Probably_. But as long as you'll stay a good girl I'll _try_ not to hurt you again."

"Oh my god, _really_? That's all I have to do?" She fluttered her eyelashes, flipping him off right after. "Nah- not happenin'." Now that her thirst was quenched, she could think a little clearer. But that didn't make his reasons any more plausible. On the contrary, he sounded even more crazy than before.

"Why are you like this? We were getting along _so well_.", he whined, throwing the empty bottle on the ground.

" _When_? When you slapped me or when you broke my right hand? You _do_ realise I'm right-handed, right?", she glared at him.

"You're still mad about _that_?"

" _No~_ , it's _fun_ being kidnapped and abused. How did you know I'm into _that_?" Sighing Alice laid her head on the backrest of the chair. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes- the stress of the last days finally catching up with her- but she refused to cry in front of Trent. Closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, she asked the question that haunted her in her dreams. "Why the Porters?"

" _Porters_?"

Snapping up her head she looked at him in disbelief. "You don't even remember their names?", she asked him incredulously. "Daniel Porter was an oncologist, Sarah Porter was an elementary school teacher. _They were people like you and me-_ "

"They were _not_ like me, and definitely not like _you_.", he interrupted her. "And since when do you care? You didn't care about people in the past-", he froze seeing her glossy eyes wandering to the ground.

"Wait. You don't feel guilty, do you!?", Trent realised. He honestly was surprised. "Is this because of _Sherlock_? Did _he_ make you care?" Alice snorted at the accusation which he interpreted as her agreeing. _If he knew-_

" _He got some nerve_." Trent mumbled. In his eyes Alice had always been a bit like him. Just- _more soft_. Like a kid, she was still too easy to influence, and people like Sherlock took advantage of her. _Like the time they made her testify against him._ Trent didn't blame _her_ though, but he also couldn't watch her protect the people who only _pretended_ to be her friends. So it was Trent's job to protect her from those _brainwashing monsters_.

"You _don't have_ to feel guilty about that Porter guy. It was his own fault, really.", he tried to comfort her. "That idiot thought that I would let his wife live if he shot himself- pathetic." Alice stared at him in shock. "Yes, don't look at me like that. Remember all the times we joked about how we wished all idiots would die?"

"I never meant it _that way_." Alice snapped at him. _How could he not see how wrong that was?_ She shook her head with a sigh. "That's so wrong, Trent."

"No, it's not.", he said like a defiant child. "How can I make you see? I'm _not_ the bad guy here-"

"Yeah, and _The Silence of the Lambs_ was a movie for children." Alice mumbled, turning her head away from him. She was tired of constantly arguing with someone who didn't value a human life.

"Why are you so- _God, Alice_.", he groaned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You know what? I'll let you cool off a bit. Maybe then you'll be more cooperative."

" _I wouldn't count on it_."

Closing the door behind him, he left her alone in the darkness.


	7. Chapter Seven: Nothing is ever lost

Hearing a faint sound, Alice lazily dragged up her eyes glancing at the door.

Being locked up too long without a distraction her mind started to play tricks on her. It started with weird squeaking and scratching sounds at the door, like rats trying to get in. Then she imagined a sound like hoof clatter, until she realised it was real and coming from herself.

Next was the scraping of shoes over the floor slowly getting closer, someone picking the door lock, the door opening, and Sherlock coming in- _Wait_.

" _Sherlock_." Alice gasped at the person in front of her.

"Fancy meeting you here!" Alice snorted. What was meant to be _casual_ sounded really weird coming from the detective- he was usually far too stiff for that. But sometimes he was lucky that the absurdity of the situation was working in his favour and elicited a smile from her. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't find you? _Getting yourself kidnapped. What are you? Five? I expected more from you,_ " he remarked playfully.

Sherlock was being playful? That was _so out of character_ \- or wasn't it? Alice was too out of it to remember or even distinguish dream and reality. She was pretty sure she was losing her mind.

" _Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy~_ " Alice started to sing under her breath, still not believing he was real.

Shaking his head at her, Sherlock entered the room. In the dim light he noticed that her left cheek was a little red and her right hand bent at a _slightly_ unnatural angle. _That bastard_ , he thought, cautiously trying to untie her hands.

Realising that he in fact was real, Alice sat up straight. "H-How did you find me?"

"That's a long story I wouldn't want to have to cut short in this situation. So let's get out of here before Hargrove-"

"-returns? Too bad, I'm already here." Trent stepped out of the shadows of the tunnel pointing a gun at Sherlock's head, motioning for him to step away from Alice. He had suspected that Sherlock would find him, but he had not expected this to happen so quickly. Pointing his gun on the consulting detective, Trent leaned way too comfortable in the doorway. "So _you're_ that Sherlock guy.", he realised, tilting his head in an analysing manner. "I thought you'd be taller."

"And you're Trent Hargrove. Former lab technician at the New York City crime lab." Sighing Sherlock shook his head. "You're just like I thought you'd be."

Was she wrong or did Sherlock sound disappointed? Alice snorted. _Yep, he was definitely disappointed._

Trent, on the other hand, looked excited. "How could you tell she was abducted? What gave me away?"

"There was some circumstantial evidence that something was wrong." Sticking his hands in his coat pockets, Sherlock slowly stepped into the farthest corner of the room, trying to keep Alice out of the line of fire. "Alice's scalpel wasn't in the right place, her voice recorder's missing- also she wasn't texting me back, and she always does.", he remarked smugly, before turning to Alice. "I sent you some _puns_." Turning his attention back to Trent, he continued. "I personally hate puns, but I know how much she loves those. So when she didn't at least send a _smiley_ back, I knew something was wrong."

"Was it the _in-vest-igator_ or the _cat-ion_?" Alice piped in.

"No, it was the chemist's _laboratory retriever_. Thought you'd like that one."

"Right, that one's cute-"

Alice was never one to make friends fast. She preferred to keep to herself and tended to be very uncomfortable with 'living' people, making people think she was antisocial. Therefore, most people didn't want to make the effort to really get to know her. _Who wants to be friends with a pathologist after all?_ It took her almost a year to become friends with her colleagues at the New York lab. Whereas with Sherlock- they just clicked. Despite her _reserved_ personality he befriended her right away. And not only to get information on the case he was working on at that time. Ever since he tried to make her as comfortable as possible- even if it meant he had to send her puns- for which she was incredibly grateful.

"So-" Trent drew the attention back to himself, he hated being ignored. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn't hard to figure out it was _you_. So I searched your place. From the dirt on your shoes I deducted that you were only recently in the sewerage. Since I have a map of the tunnels of the London Underground in my head, it wasn't hard to deduce where you would hide her.", he casually waved in Alice's direction without leaving Trent out of his eyes. "It would have to be not far from the hospital- seeing as nobody saw a man carrying an unconscious woman around- and within reach of your apartment, since you wouldn't want to leave her alone for too long in case you needed to change or shower."

"Clever." Trent mused impressed. He could see why Alice liked that guy. In his eyes Sherlock was a cheap imitation of himself though. But it seemed to be enough for her. _If you can't have the original..._

"More like _show-off_." Alice scoffed. She was more relaxed now that Sherlock was behaving more like himself again. She was used to _this Sherlock_ and wasn't as easily impressed anymore. Besides, his deductions weren't as fascinating when you were trapped in a tiny room for days- _or weeks_. She lost her sense of time down here long ago.

"You don't want to be rescued anymore?" Sherlock asked irritated.

"If your plan was to get caught too, you succeeded." She rolled her eyes at him, adding, " _My hero-_ "

"Would you two stop _flirting_?"

"Flirting?" Sherlock asked in confusion. He didn't understand how Trent could come to _that_ conclusion.

"We're not flirting. He doesn't even know what that is." Alice rolled her eyes. "Sherlock's a big flirt." At that the consulting detective looked up grinning rather proud. "Most of the time he's flirting with _Death_ though." She gave him a look, making him frown.

"I know what flirting is. It's to ' _Behave as though sexually attracted to someone, but playfully rather than with serious intentions_ '.", he stated matter-of-factly.

"Did you get that from _W_ ikipedia?"

"No, Oxford Dictionaries."

" _Would you stop_?" Trent flailed his gun around, having enough of being ignored. "If you knew where I hid her, why didn't you bring reinforcements?"

"Who said I was alone?" Sherlock deadpanned.

"Hello." John stepped out of the shadows.


End file.
